I’ll never forget the moment my sister called me to tell me her husband had suddenly died. It was maybe 5am, and as I screamed into the phone my own husband woke up to tell me I was just having a nightmare.  Only I wasn’t.  I quickly booked a one-way flight to Tennessee and left to be with her.  I didn’t want to show up empty handed and cried to the woman at the Kiehl’s counter at the airport as I purchased a lotion for her.  Really, a lotion?  But it was the best I could do.

With four little kiddos of my own, days later I had to return to Pennsylvania, only to wander around my house aimlessly, sick to my stomach, not knowing how I could help.  I called Kate all the time to check on her, and every time she didn’t answer, I had no way of knowing if she was busy with her young daughters or crying on her shower floor.  I lived in a state of worry and “what else can I do?”  I scoured the internet for the right words, the right gift, the right something to help make it better from afar.  But I couldn’t find an answer.  

When it was time to return to Tennessee for her husband’s memorial service, I decided I had to leave a part of me behind.  Something physical in her house that would remind my sister that she was loved, give her the encouragement to keep going, and provide words of support to get her through her next difficult day, hour, or even minute.  I do not even remember what that first gift was, but I recall placing it on a shelf in her closest and telling her to open it when she was having a “rainy day.”  

What I also remember was Kate picking up the phone and calling me one day to say, “I opened your rainy day gift.”  This was the first time she called me.  Not only did my rainy day gift give her the power to endure a day that seemed unbearable, but it also gave her a communication vehicle to reach out.  It provided a way for her to say “I’m having a really tough time right now” without having to come right out and actually say it.  And so I kept the rainy day gifts coming.  I was comforted knowing she had something there to help her get through a tough day, whenever that may be.

Sometimes just a couple weeks would pass between her opening one. Sometimes it would be months.  But even today, nearly 3 years later, what may seem like a normal day to me may be a day where my sister is brought to her knees with grief and turns to a Rainy Day box for comfort.  Grief is something that can’t be measured in weeks or months or even years.  My rainy day gift concept addresses the long season of grief, and more importantly, the long season of Kate’s grief.  It’s there for however long she needs it.

I am so excited to extend the power of Rainy Day Boxes to you.  Just like I have done for my sister, each gift in a Rainy Day Box is carefully selected and matched with a meaningful quote and words of inspiration to help your loved one get through their hardest moments.  It lets you magically show up on their worst days.